Page 33 of The Best Kind of Bad

“I miss him, too.” We’re not talking about the snake anymore, something that I’m well aware of. But making jokes is the best way I know to let some of the pressure go. But when the pressure is gone, all I feel is emptiness. “I should have asked more questions while I still could.” Those gray eyes of his hook into me and I tear my gaze away. “If I had known how little time we had left, I would have called more often. He had so much going on that I didn’t know about. I don’t understand why he never told us about you and Sienna.”

A muted flash of lightning is quickly followed by a crack of thunder.

“Getting closer.” Dusty looks up at the egress windows. He must see some of the regret lingering in my expression because he squeezes my knee. “Gus was a private guy. He was allergic to boasting.” He pauses, thinking. “But what he did was pretty heroic. If it weren’t for him, I’m not sure what Sienna and I would have done.”

“When did you two move in?”

“I started working for him when I was seventeen. My mom passed away when I was twenty, and we needed aproperguardian for Sienna otherwise, the caseworker was talking about taking her away.”

“From a twenty-year-old? They didn’t consider you an adult?”

“Sienna’s caseworker, Rhonda Lind, wasn’t so sure I would be an appropriate caregiver.” He gives me a tight smile. “She might have had a point.”

I’m not so sure she did. From everything I’ve seen so far, Dusty seems like a solid, dependable brother. “So, what happened?”

“Gus happened. He stepped in and agreed to be her guardian. The two of us didn’t know shit about raising a ten-year-old girl.”

I sit back, not at all surprised that Uncle Gus would be willing to help a family in need. I’m surprised I didn’t know about it. But five years ago, our home life was a mess. Dad’s alcoholism was getting worse. He was barely keeping it under tabs, and when mom died, he decided he wanted to follow.

There’s another crack of thunder. Angry and loud, like the very heavens are splitting apart. Ed jumps up with a whine and dashes down the hall.

Dusty glances at me. “He’s gone to hide under the bed.”

I’m wondering if we should be hiding under the bed, too, when with a mighty peel of thunder, the lights go out.

22.

Dusty

One minute I’m looking at Marnie without actually looking at her, because it’s chilly down here and her nipples are actively trying to steal the show; and then the next thing I know, we’re thrown into sudden pitch darkness.

And my brain is slowly trying to catch up, buffering the information that crashed over me. Point number one, Marnie’s hand is grasping my thigh. Hard. Which is sending mixed signals to other appendages.

And point number two, the cutest, girliest squeak came out of her mouth just as the lights went out. I’m amazed I heard it over the thunder, but I’m glad I did, because now my goal is going to be to hear that sound again. One way or another.

I can’t help myself, a slow, rumbly kind of laugh shakes loose from my chest. Which I regret, because she takes her hand back, but I also can’t contain it.

Using my phone’s flashlight, I shine it towards her, and she hides her face like a blinded vampire, squawking about it being too bright.

Still smiling like an idiot, I climb to my feet and navigate over to the fuse box.

“What are you doing?”

“Seeing if we threw a fuse.” I try one after the other, to no avail. “Must be a tree down on a line somewhere.”

“You know where the breaker box is?”

Swinging the closet door open, I look for Gus’s emergency supplies. “I ought to. I lived here for three years.”

“Oh. Right.” I can’t see her, but judging from the sound of her voice, she’s watching me. The couch squeaks under her as she shifts around. “I found Sienna’s room. Where did you sleep?”

I find the battery-operated lantern and flick it on, carrying it back to her. “Whose bed do you think Ed is hiding under?”

A halo of light pools around us and I set the lantern on the coffee table. More thunder crashes overhead, swirling with the sound of wind. She’s peering at the small window, gaze wary. The light from the lantern is reflected in her big eyes, like twin flames.

She catches me staring, so I busy myself by dropping to the couch. Stretching in an exaggerated way.

I haven’t been this awkward since Homecoming, freshman year. This woman has me completely off balance.

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